LUCY BELLE

LUCY BELLE

Jes’ a minute. Changin’ mah skirt.

(Aunt Rebecca drops into a chair, Left Center, and begins a weird and doleful chant.)

[13]

[13]

AUNT REBECCA

AUNT REBECCA

Um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a! Trouble in mah soul! Um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a! Trouble! (High treble) Um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a! Trouble in mah soul! Um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a! Trouble in mah soul! Um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a—um—a!

(Lucy Belle enters, Left. She is a frail, light brown young Negress of about twenty-eight. She has a nervous, hesitant—and sometimes wistful—manner. She wears a plain black waist and a black skirt, patched in several places.)

LUCY BELLE (feelingly, as she kisses Aunt Rebecca)

LUCY BELLE

Aun’ Becky! I’se so glad ter see yo’ agin! ’Deed I is! (Draws up a chair and sits near her.)

AUNT REBECCA (affectionately)

AUNT REBECCA

Po’ful glad ter see yo’, honey!

LUCY BELLE

LUCY BELLE

Seem like ole times—seein’ yo’! Lessee—how-some long yo’ all been ’way?

AUNT REBECCA (reflectively)

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